


Stay the Way We Are

by alwaysbeliev



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Romance, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27513193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysbeliev/pseuds/alwaysbeliev
Summary: It's been a rough few weeks between Blackwater and arriving to Horseshoe Overlook. You're not sure, but you think a certain cowboy might be realizing what he has to lose, and he doesn't want to lose it.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader, Arthur Morgan/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 72





	Stay the Way We Are

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a really long time since I wrote any reader insert material, but I've been deep in RDR2 again recently and I can't stop thinking about Arthur Morgan. I hope this fills you with warmth like it did me.

Horseshoe Overlook was beautiful in the setting sun. The way the sun tinged the clouds pink, the fading bright orange of the top of the mountains, the valley stretching below. You stood on the edge of the rocky precipice, hugging your shawl close to your shoulders in the disappearing light and heat of the day. With the wind against your face, you could almost pretend there was nothing else going on in the world. No Pinktertons, no O’Driscolls, it was almost like you were just camping.

A raucous laugh from behind you startled you. Resurfacing from your daydream, you blinked as the last rays of sunlight fell behind the distant Grizzlies. Another day, another sunset, another night you would live to rest again. Your muscles relaxed and you felt a small smile grace your lips. This was allowed tonight.

Taking a deep breath, you turned away from the darkening view to see your fellow gang members gathering around the campfire. Sean had cracked open a new case of whiskey and was passing a couple bottles out as Javier helped him pour the drinks. Karen was already a full glass in, her cheeks turning red and making your smile spread further. Everyone’s faces were aglow in the strong firelight, all their scars almost invisible in the intense flame. Some sat on the logs, others on the still warm ground, and the stragglers standing behind.

You readjusted your shawl as you made your way over. Mary Beth welcomed you in next to her. Uncle was spouting some fantastical tale about his pre-lumbago days, days you had never seen in your lifetime, and you chuckled at his drama. It took you a moment to realize you were standing beside Arthur. You felt heat rising to your cheeks that had nothing to do with the flames that were 5 feet away from you still.

In the days since Blackwater, you and Arthur had grown closer. You were almost sure something had been there before, but after everything went down and the gang fled, you had noticed him giving you special attention. Through the mountains, he had kept by your side. When you were tired of riding in the wagon, he sat you on his horse, wrapped carefully and firmly in his arms as he guided his horse through the deep snow. He always gave you an extra bread crust, an extra scoop of stew when it was available, a spare blanket, his jacket on one particularly bitter night. You didn’t really want to give it much thought, you had dealt with too much heartbreak already, but part of you wanted to believe that whatever had happened on the ferry made him realize he didn’t want to lose what was in front of him. You still didn’t know the details of that fiasco, but whatever happened had scared the shit out of Arthur, and you weren’t going to press him. 

“You going soft, Morgan?” you had teased shortly after the arrival at Horseshoe. It seemed to strike a nerve with the outlaw.  
“Jus’ doin’ my part,” he had managed to mumble. He finished rather quickly after that and brushed his hands off before striding away faster than was normal.  
The whiskey had made its way around to you. You took it from Mary Beth, taking a long drink that burned down your throat and made you shudder violently.  
“Christ,” you breathed, turning to Arthur with the bottle.  
“What’s the matter?” he chuckled, taking it from you gingerly. “Is it really that bad?”

You only shook your head, willing the lingering sting to leave your mouth. Truthfully, you hadn’t had anything to drink since before Blackwater. It didn’t warm you like it did the others, and with things the way they were, you wanted your senses about you in the case things went further south. The long pull you had taken was just too much.  
“‘M fine,” you managed. With a small shake of his head, Arthur took his own drink before passing it on. Your heart skipped a beat when you watched him swallow. _Oh, it’s bad...._

Another round of laughter drew you out of your head again.  
“You’re full of it,” the man beside you called over. Uncle was insisting he’d told the truth on the opposite side of the circle to uproarious laughter and head shaking. Bill thumped him on the back, calling him an old fool. It was endearing, though, the way the others still encouraged Uncle.

As the laughter died down, the familiar sound of Dutch’s phonograph began to play. Its comforting tone filled the campsite as the crowd began to separate into smaller groups, a few folks heading to their tents to prepare for bed. Abigail led Jack away as the boy asked to stay up with the adults, eyes desperately trying to catch John’s. Karen found her way to Sean’s lap. The Irishman generously wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling. A bottle had found its way back to you. While the chatter began to die, you took another drink, tipping the bottle gently this time and taking a smaller sip.

“Here.”  
Arthur took the bottle from you, taking another drink of his own before handing it back. You smiled and thanked him, but merely held the bottle for now. He was flushed, you thought. It was difficult to tell. Between the glow of the fire and the drink, it might be wishful thinking. It was several moments before you realized you were still staring. You quickly turned away as you felt the heat rising in your own cheeks.

Motion in your peripheral had you relieved for the distraction. There, by Dutch’s tent, van der Linde himself had pulled Molly to her feet. They were slow dancing to the music, lost in their own little world, Molly’s hair almost like fire itself in the lantern glow. You watched them, tuning out the conversation around you. It was nice to see them like this. Every now and then, you caught the two of them in a moment made you wonder why they ever fought in the first place. It was clear Molly loved Dutch, and while he was proud and would never admit to anything so soft out loud, you knew he loved her, too. 

A soft hand on your shoulder dragged you back to reality again. Arthur was looking at you, amused concern etched in his brow.  
“Y’okay?” he asked. Something told you he had already tried getting your attention.  
“Ah, yeah,” you said, allowing yourself a slightly embarrassed smile. “It’s just nice to see them not fighting for once.” Arthur followed your gaze before answering.  
“They don’t mean nothin’ by it.” _Was he trying to reassure you?_  
“Still. Must be nice to have someone to fight with. Makes you appreciate these moments more.”

There was a long silence as the pair of you watched the couple. Dutch’s hand had found the small of Molly’s back and drawn her in tight, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. They weren’t stepping side to side anymore, only swaying off beat. You could almost feel yourself in that moment. It had been so long since you had danced at all, and never like that. There really wasn’t time for it the way you lived now. 

“Join me?”  
You reluctantly tore your gaze away from the peacefulness to find Arthur, facing you, hand extended. Sheepishly, you realized he must have asked you another question and were going to have to ask him to repeat himself. As you opened your mouth, however, something clicked in your mind.  
“Join you..?” you echoed, heart fluttering.  
“Don’t make me ask again.”  
“Arthur Morgan, are you asking me to dance with you?”  
“Well?”

The cowboy looked...nervous? You had never seen him like this before. You couldn’t blame him, though, you were nervous, too. Hardly daring to break your gaze with him, you gingerly placed your hand in his, allowing him to guide you away from the fire and into a patch of shadows. He moved with the grace of a man who hadn’t asked someone to dance in a very very long time. Maybe he never had. Stiffly, he turned to you, lifting your hand with his and placing it on his shoulder. His hand found your waist as the other gripped your free hand. 

For several beats, the movements felt ridiculous. The two of you couldn’t look each other in the eye. Your mouth had a mind of its own, twitching into an awkward smile again and again while you tried to watch your feet and not step on Arthur’s boots. Not that that mattered. Cowboys and mud and all that. Thankfully, it wasn’t just you. In an attempt to do something special, Arthur led you into a spin, but failed to release your waist, causing your shawl to slip off your shoulders and gather in a pile on the dirt. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, scooping it up and trying to drape it over your shoulders again. You felt your heart soften. He was so vulnerable in this moment. He usually oozed confidence and strength, but right now, he was lost. You brushed off his apology, taking his hand again and drawing yourself closer to him. Here, you could at least pretend to be confident.

The movements started to come more naturally now. The fire was dying down, the camp seeming to fade into the background. All you could see were Arthur’s blue eyes, no hat’s shadow to hide under, the few lights around sparkling in their reflection. You could get lost in them. You _were_ getting lost in them.

“So how’re you likin’ things?” Arthur asked.  
“They’re alright.” You thought about your words carefully for a moment. “I’m just glad to be out of the mountains. It feels almost safe here.”  
“I know what you mean.”

Silence again. The song had changed to something sweeter, somehow slower. Dutch and Molly were having a whispered conversation now. Few people still hung around the dying fire. You were acutely aware of the warmth emanating from the man in front of you, the rise and fall of his chest. You were standing even closer, you realized, your own chest brushing against his.

“What about you?”  
Arthur hummed. He seemed to be studying your face, taking it all in like it was the first time in a long time. He looked happy and relaxed, a look you realized you hadn’t seen on him in months, but it somehow made him more handsome. 

“From where I’m standing, it’s all perfect.” You swallowed. Hard. He must have noticed how sweaty your palms were despite the evening chill.  
“Glad t’ hear it,” you replied. As you watched his face carefully, you felt his hand on your waist shift lower, nearly lining up with your hip before shifting towards your back, gently bringing you flush to him. Nervously, you lowered your arm, hooking your hand over his shoulder from the back instead. This was intimate. This was more like Dutch and Molly.

“Y’know,” Arthur started, “ever since arriving here, I can’t help but wonder what might make this place more perfect. I ain’t the smartest man, so it’s taken me way too long to think of somethin’.”

You were almost frozen, the only movement the continued swaying of your bodies in sync, your eyes wide as he spoke. He really looked like a different man right now. He wasn’t the stoic bodyguard of numerous robberies, debt collections, and other Dutch errands. This was the real Arthur. 

“I’m real sorry it took me this long. Any chance you’ll forgive me?”

To an outsider, a romance novelist, this wasn’t much of a confession. He hadn’t even admitted anything. But you knew him. You knew all the glances, the teasings, the special treats and gifts, the attention in the mountains, the flushed cheeks in the past week, how difficult it was for Arthur to open up like this. You knew that for him, this was exposing his belly, being as transparent and vulnerable as he was comfortable being. There was time later down the road for more intimate conversations, you knew, and this, right now, was more than enough.

“I’ll have to think about it,” you said, stopping your swaying to coyly glance to the side. “After all, we’ve only known each other… What is it now, 3 years? That’s an awful short time to know someone.”  
He couldn’t help but laugh at that.  
“Fair enough,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Just don’t torture me, now, okay?”  
Feeling more content than you had in a long time, you returned your eyes to his and said, “I promise.”

The music continued to play through to the end of the song. Dutch and Molly prepared to return to their tent, but you and Arthur stayed in each other’s arms, swaying to the tune in your heads, simply existing in the moment. This, here, now, was enough.


End file.
